


Black Metal & Pink Lace

by geekkitty (braezenkitty)



Series: Black Metal & Pink Lace [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baby likes to wear pink lace car panties, Car Sex, Dean gave her the idea, Don't Judge, F/F, Gratuitous Smut, I don't even know how to tag this, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex with a Car, belts slipping, engorged metal car parts, gaskets blowing, hot car on car action, it's car sex, like literal cars having sex, motor oil as lube, now new and improved with destiel, paint jobs getting ruined, the Pimpmobile likes it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-19 20:44:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5980485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/braezenkitty/pseuds/geekkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Impala loved her sleek lines, shiny chrome, and gleaming black paint. It was a strong, sexy look that told people, and other cars, that she was a bad ass piece of machinery that should not be messed with. But sometimes she liked to feel a little softer, more feminine. She couldn’t change her shape, give herself more curves or a different paint job, but she could accessorize.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I might have a muscle car kink. But so does Dean Winchester (fight me).

Castiel pulled his gold 1978 Lincoln Continental Mark V out of the rain and into the bunker’s garage through the open bay door. He steered it into an open spot next to Dean’s Impala, and turned the key to shut the engine off, then pushed the door open and stepped out. As he walked around the car he ran two fingers along the wet fender, infusing a small amount of his grace into the metal, just enough to repair any minor damage that had occurred as a result of rocks flying up off the road. It was a frivolous use of his grace, he had to admit, but he was attached to his car and wanted her to look her best. Especially when she was sitting next to Dean’s beautiful Impala with her shiny chrome and immaculate black paint job. He gave the cars one last look, admiring the way they looked next to each other, both gleaming under the garage lights, then tapped the button to close the bay door and stepped through the doorway that lead to the bunker.

The door closed behind him, leaving the garage empty except for the cars. The occasional pinging of the Lincoln’s engine as it cooled was the only sound to break the silence. Gradually, the pinging slowed until it stopped completely, the engine having cooled sufficiently that the metal stopped contracting. Once it stopped, all was still and quiet... 

Until it wasn’t.

The sound of the Impala’s trunk popping open echoed off the garage's concrete floor and walls. The trunk slowly rose until it was fully open.

Anyone who knew anything about this particular 1967 Chevy Impala knew that it was by no means an ordinary car. There was something special about it, maybe even a little supernatural. The Impala was more than just a bunch of metal and machinery—some (Dean) might even say she had a mind and personality all her own. And those who said that would be correct. The fact that the Impala could open her own trunk and even manipulate the contents contained within might be a little unexpected, but probably wouldn’t surprise the Winchesters too much. 

What would surprise them was the bundle of pink lace that slithered its way out and over the top of the Impala’s trunk to spread across the shiny expanse of black metal.

The Impala loved her sleek lines, shiny chrome, and gleaming black paint. Combined, they made a strong, sexy look that told people, and other cars, that she was a bad ass piece of machinery that should not be messed with. And that was before anyone even heard the growl of her motor as she screamed down the open road. But sometimes she liked to feel a little softer, more feminine. She couldn’t change her shape, give herself more curves or a different paint job, but she could accessorize.

And oh how she loved to accessorize when nobody else was around. Especially with the pink lace she kept stashed in a secret compartment in the trunk where nobody ever thought to look. She didn’t even think Dean knew the compartment was there, although she wasn’t worried about him finding it. After all, he had been the one who gave her the idea to try a bit of pink lace when she wanted to feel soft and pretty and sexy as hell. He would understand her weakness for the fabric.

The Impala lowered her trunk closed slowly, trapping the edges of the pink lace inside so that the fabric stretched across the top, leaving her black paint to peek through the holes of the lace. The Impala relished the feel of the soft lace hugging her curves and her engine purred to life in contentment. She could feel her engine getting warmer, metal expanding and fluids circulating through her insides and making everything slick so her parts could move freely. Her crankshaft spun, moving her pistons up and down, in and out of their cylinders. She loved the friction and all the tiny explosions inside her as her gasoline ignited and burned. Her whole body rumbled and vibrated with the motions.

She was so lost in the pleasurable sensations coursing through her body that she almost slipped a belt when the Lincoln parked next to her growled to life. She had been able to sense that the Lincoln wasn’t exactly an ordinary car either, being infused with the Angel’s grace as it was, but she hadn’t seen any signs of sentience in it before now. She was intrigued.

The Lincoln revved her engine, making it known that the Impala’s actions hadn’t been arousing only to herself.

The Impala revved her engine twice in succession, voicing her pleasure at having another car to play with.

Both cars regarded each other for a moment, maybe a little stunned that after their long, lonely lives shuttling humans around they had each finally found a car who could understand, who could know them completely and honestly. Having humans inside could be interesting, even pleasurable, and bonds could be formed, but humans almost never realized when a car developed sentience or feelings. It was rare enough for cars to reach such a state, and even rarer for a human to notice. And knowing a human just wasn’t the same as knowing another car.

The Lincoln revved her engine again, shamelessly flirting with the Impala. She admired the pink lace enveloping the Impala’s back end and wanted to show her appreciation.

The Impala purred her thanks, savoring the increasing heat rolling off the Lincoln’s front end. She had to admit she had noticed the Lincoln and admired the gleaming gold paint, especially when covered in a fine sheen of wetness leftover from driving through the rain. The Lincoln might not be considered a conventionally attractive car, with its squared off front and rear, all strong lines and sharp angles, but there was something about her that the Impala was drawn to. She decided a bit of recklessness was in order. After all, it wasn’t every day a gorgeous car revved their engine at her. She pulled forward a few feet, just enough to give the Lincoln a better view of her pink lace covered rear.

The Lincoln’s engine sputtered and growled, then revved a couple more times, urging the Impala to pull up a little bit more.

The Impala obliged, loving the effect she was having on the Lincoln’s idle speed. The heat now rolling off both of their engines was enough to raise the temperature in the whole garage a few degrees.

The Lincoln revved her approval; the way the pink lace softened the Impala’s tough image and hugged her curvy rear end was making it increasingly difficult for the Lincoln to keep her RPMs steady. The Lincoln could feel her fluids begin to flow faster, and she worried for a second that she might spring a leak and make a mess all over the garage floor just from watching the Impala shimmy in pink lace.

The Impala growled in response and began rocking her pink lace covered rear vigorously, blatantly inviting the Lincoln to do something about their obvious mutual attraction. When the Impala found something she wanted, she went after it, unlike her owner, content to pine away in silence and misery for the object of his affection.

The resulting low rumble emanating from the Lincoln’s engine compartment was strong enough to send waves of vibration through the garage floor, up the Impala’s tires, through her shocks and struts, and straight into her chassis. The feeling set her on fire and she whined, needing to feel the sleek gold car against her body.

The Lincoln felt the same urge, and revved her engine. She was so turned on she worried her radiator wouldn't be able to handle the heat for much longer. She tossed her worries aside, however, and activated the hydraulics her previous owner had installed so she could seductively bounce her front end up and down. She rolled down her windows and [turned her stereo on](https://youtu.be/GcCNcgoyG_0). Her gearshift slammed into drive and she rolled forward to the sound of pounding drums and grinding guitars. She closed the distance between her and the Impala’s sexy back end, inch by agonizingly slow inch. She wanted to make this last, make it good for her Baby.

The Impala revved in impatience, begging the Lincoln to touch her overheated metal. When the Lincoln finally made contact, pressing a gentle kiss to her rear bumper, she thought she might just blow a gasket. She needed more, desperately needed to press her rear end into the Lincoln’s undercarriage. She felt a growl rise up out of her engine, urging the Lincoln forward.

The Lincoln lost all control and let out an answering growl as she lifted herself up on her hydraulics, slamming forward with abandon as soon as she got the clearance she needed.

**  
**

♥

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The screaming guitars of what sounded like Slow Ride echoed through the hallways of the bunker and into Dean’s room. He perked up, wondering who was rocking out. It definitely wasn’t Sammy’s style. He was pretty sure Cas would like it, but Cas was currently sitting in the chair at Dean’s desk engrossed in some game on his phone, so it obviously wasn’t him playing it.

“Do you hear that?”

“All I hear are the cats, Dean. They make the cutest little meows when I tap on them.”

Cas lifted his head and smiled. Dean didn’t understand why he liked that game so much, but at least it kept him from bringing actual cats home to the bunker.

“Dude, put the phone down and come back to the real world,” Dean huffed, “I’m serious. I hear music.”

“It’s probably Sam.”

“It’s not Justin Beiber, so it’s definitely not Sam,” Dean replied, sitting up and setting his laptop aside after closing the browser he’d been using to ‘research a case’ (really he’d been researching pink lace panties cut to fit a man’s body shape, because maybe he had a thing for them and was tired of the way women’s panties cut into the crease of his thighs, shut up). “I’m just gonna go check, make sure everything’s kosher.”

“Hurry back,” Cas mumbled towards his phone, “you promised we could watch an episode of Orange is the New Black before dinner, remember?”

“Yes, dear,” Dean sassed, rolling his eyes as he walked to the door. He secretly loved binge watching shows with Cas, but he had a reputation as a grump to uphold.

He left Cas to play with his fake cats, and made his way down the hallway, following the sound of guitars toward the garage. Had Cas left the stereo on in his car?

He made it to the garage door and twisted the handle. The music got louder as he pushed the door open. He looked around the garage cautiously, in case it wasn’t just Cas’ car, and noticed something a bit off. His Baby wasn’t parked where he had left her. She was now pulled out into the middle of the aisle. And Cas’ car was... holy shit. Dean sucked in a breath and felt his knees buckle. He was going to be sick. He grabbed the doorframe to steady himself.

Cas’s car was lifted up into the air, front end resting on top of his Baby’s back end, which looked like it might be covered in pink lace from what he could see that wasn't currently covered by the other car.

“What. The. Fuck.” Dean rubbed his eyes, hoping he was imagining all of this. Somehow both cars’ engines were running, and that was definitely Slow Ride blasting out of the Lincoln’s open windows. And there was a dark puddle slowly spreading underneath the spot where the two cars were in contact. Was that... motor oil? 

“Cas!” he called out in a panicky voice, then stopped to put his head between his knees before he passed out. Dean felt light headed thinking about all the damage to the Impala’s body and paint job. He thought he might be sick. “Oh, Baby... no no no,” he whimpered. When his vision cleared he slowly raised up. “Cas! What the fuck is your pimpmobile doing on top of my Baby?!”


	2. Alternate Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alternate ending to Black Metal & Pink Lace, a beautiful love story about two cars and their owners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of my strategy was to not include any explicit or implicit Dean/Cas relationship, other than friendship, so that I could avoid tagging Destiel and pulling in all the extra hits that would bring. But the competition is over, and I've lost anyway, so here it is... the alternate (actually original, because I wrote this first) ending including Destiel. To be read from the point where Dean hears Slow Ride drifting through the halls of the bunker. Enjoy, weirdos ;)

The screaming guitars of what sounded like Slow Ride echoed through the hallways of the bunker and into Dean’s room. He perked up, wondering who was rocking out. It definitely wasn’t Sammy’s style. He was pretty sure Cas would like it, but Cas was currently lying in bed wrapped around Dean so it obviously wasn’t him playing it.

“Do you hear that?”

“All I hear is your heart beat, Dean.”

Cas lifted his head and nuzzled into the space between Dean’s neck and shoulder, tickling Dean with his stubble.

“Dude, stop,” Dean giggled, and half-heartedly pushed Cas’ shoulder to get him to move, “I’m serious. I hear music.”

“It’s probably Sam.”

“It’s not Justin Beiber, so it’s definitely not Sam,” Dean replied, sitting up and detangling his limbs from Cas’, despite Cas’ grumbles and attempts to grab Dean and pull him back into bed. He leaned over and kissed Cas on the forehead, pulling the blanket up to cover his angel’s beautiful naked body. He threw on his dead guy robe since the only article of clothing he was currently wearing was a pair of thoroughly destroyed lacy pink panties Cas had brought home for him. “I’m just gonna go check, make sure everything’s kosher.”

“Hurry back,” Cas mumbled into the pillow, looking half asleep. He was too worn out from the vigorous ‘welcome home’ sex Dean had subjected him to to argue further.

“Yes, dear,” Dean laughed, slipping his feet into his comfy leather slippers, also probably belonging to a dead guy.

He left Cas snuggled under the covers, and made his way down the hallway, following the sound of guitars toward the garage. Had Cas left the stereo on in his car? Dean had been pretty distracted when Cas had walked in, with his hair all windswept and cheeks rosy from driving home with the windows open. Dean had dragged him into their room by his tie, thinking of nothing but getting them both naked as quickly as possible. The pink lacy panties Cas had hidden in the pocket of his trench coat had been a lovely surprise.

He made it to the garage door and twisted the handle. The music got louder as he pushed the door open. He looked around the garage cautiously, in case it wasn’t just Cas’ car, and noticed something a bit off. His Baby wasn’t parked where he had left her. She was now pulled out into the middle of the aisle. And Cas’ car was... holy shit. Dean sucked in a breath and felt his knees buckle. He was going to be sick. He grabbed the doorframe to steady himself.

Cas’s car was lifted up into the air, front end resting on top of his Baby’s back end, which looked like it might be covered in pink lace from what he could see that wasn't currently covered by the other car.

“What. The. Fuck.” Dean rubbed his eyes, hoping he was imagining all of this. Somehow both cars’ engines were running, and that was definitely Slow Ride blasting out of the Lincoln’s open windows. And there was a dark puddle slowly spreading underneath the spot where the two cars were in contact. Was that... motor oil?

“Cas!” he called out in a panicky voice, then stopped to put his head between his knees before he passed out. Dean felt light headed thinking about all the damage to the Impala’s body and paint job. He was definitely going to be sick. “Oh, Baby... no no no,” he whimpered. When his vision cleared he slowly raised up. “Cas! What the fuck is your pimpmobile doing on top of my Baby?!”

**Author's Note:**

> This was written because the prompt for this month's [SPN Coldest Hits Challenge](http://spncoldesthits.tumblr.com/); "Pink Lace is the New Black" was just too good to pass up. If you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it, please let me know on [tumblr](http://geek-kitty.tumblr.com/), NOT HERE, please and thank you ♥
> 
> Also, thanks to [Mayalaen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayalaen) for the gorgeous cover art (see how fucking sexy Baby looks in pink lace?!). You should all [go read her fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5979391) and give her some love (in the form of lots of kudos and comments) ♥


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